Gather Up my Past
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Through the Looking Glass AU: As Rebecca Merlyn prepares to unleash the Undertaking against the Glades, she remembers the night everything was set into motion and prepares to face off with Oliver.
1. Chapter 1:Where We Came From

Author's Notes: And now, we come to the beginning of Rebecca's confrontation with Oliver. This is where things really take a turn for the worse, because Oliver is reluctant to kill his 'aunt.' Even knowing what she's done, what she will do, this is still the woman he grew up with. And yes, the fact that he's fighting a woman does impact things as well. Next chapter, they face off, while Malcolm, Tommy, Laurel and Ginny try to intervene.

Chapter One

Where We Came From

 _She was going to be late, she knew she would be late … but just as she thought she reached the bottom of the pile, she discovered there was (surprise, surprise) more paperwork. A glance at the clock told her that if she wanted to head out before it was too dangerous to leave, she'd need to finish up in the next few minutes. As it was, she would be too late to kiss Tommy good-night before he fell asleep. There was a sound in the front and she called up, "Lida? Everything ok?"_

" _Not Lida … sorry," came the familiar voice of her husband. Malcolm's dark head poked into her office, and Rebecca bit back her smile. Not just at the adorably sheepish expression on his face (or what she could see of it), but at the half-dozen red roses in his hand that shielded the rest of his face from view. Rebecca couldn't hold back her smile any longer, because it was so utterly Malcolm. They'd argued this morning, before Tommy got up … one of the rare arguments that resulted in her husband leaving without kissing her good-bye (although not without him kissing Tommy good-bye)._

 _She'd been angry with him … so very angry. But as the day progressed, she was forced to admit that she was just as much at fault as he was, maybe even more so. She knew how he worried about her, and more to the point, she knew that he was right to worry about her. He was trying to be a good husband … and now, to see him all but hiding behind the flowers he brought for her. He peeked around them, asking shyly, "Am I forgiven?" Rebecca's heart melted then … not just because he brought her flowers as an apology, but because she was the only one who got to see this side of him._

 _She rose to her feet and approached him, answering, "Under one condition." He winced a bit, but nodded resolutely. Rebecca carefully took the flowers and put them on her desk, before turning back to face her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering, "That you forgive me as well." She felt, rather than heard, Malcolm's soft huff of laughter as he wrapped his arms around her. There were times when Rebecca wondered what she'd done to deserve this man. Times like this afternoon, when she mentally replayed every cruel word she'd uttered this morning, exploiting every insecurity he possessed in order to get him to back down. But even if she didn't deserve him, he still loved her, and that was a gift she could never take for granted …_

And she hadn't. Even as he lay in her arms, not even an hour later, even as his blood soaked her clothing, even as her terror at seeing her brave husband place himself in front of her protectively gave way to hatred and fury toward those who would have let him die … she never, ever took his love for granted. Twenty years later, as she knelt before the last Markov device and synchronized the timers, Rebecca Merlyn angrily brushed away her tears.

She had to stay focused on this moment. She had to stay focused on cleansing her city … not just to avenge Malcolm, but to save every other young husband out there who would step between his wife and a bullet … to ensure no more little boys grew up without their fathers. Rebecca was no saint, no martyr, no angel … she knew she wasn't a good person, but she didn't care about that any more. She was willing to be a monster to protect others. It hurt, what she had to do … especially since she knew that Oliver Queen would be coming after her. She didn't want to kill him … but she would, if she had to.

There was one more thing she needed to do, though, before that final confrontation took place. Dialing a number that she'd memorized not long after the attempt on her life, she said quietly, "The Queen has been removed from the field … take the princess to safety." Tommy was safely with his father, and they would take care of each other. But now, Rebecca had to take care of the daughter she could never acknowledge. Nineteen years earlier, as Malcolm remained in a coma, Rebecca was forced to face the possibility that her husband would never wake up, and her dreams of having more children with him began to die. Until, someone mentioned the possibility of surrogacy … until Moira agreed to her request, so that even a small bit of Malcolm remained, in addition to Tommy. After too many failures to count, Moira announced that she was pregnant, and Thea was born months later. And oh, she looked so much like Malcolm, just as Tommy did … so much, it broke Rebecca's heart just to look at her!

She was assured by the woman on the other end of the line that no harm would come to Thea, and Rebecca allowed herself a small smile. She answered pleasantly, "I hope for your sake that you take excellent care of my daughter, China White … there are a few people in A.R.G.U.S. who would love to get their hands on you." There was an audible gulp from the other end of the line, and Rebecca smiled coldly before hanging up. Time for the final move in her game.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: In case you were wondering, the title of the fic comes from ' _This is the Moment_ ,' from the _Jekyll and Hyde_ score. From the moment I heard John Barrowman sing this on his album, _You Raise Me Up_ , I murmured, ' _Oh my God, that's Malcolm_.' Look it up and see if you can't 'hear' him in the days and weeks leading up to the Undertaking.


	2. Chapter 2: The Last Resort

Author's Notes: I had no sooner posted the previous chapter, when Rebecca began telling me how she wanted her confrontation/fight with Oliver to go. Many years ago, my best friend at the time created a healer as a character, and something she said has always said with me: this girl was a healer, who knew how to ease pain. So, conversely, she would also know how to inflict it. Further, as a doctor, Rebecca knows that amputations are sometimes necessary as a last resort. I think it's this part of what makes her more frightening than Malcolm, not just because she goes (a lot) further than he did. She's not just looking at the Glades as an angry, grieving woman, but as a doctor … the trouble is, she's no longer seeing human beings, but a cancer or gangrene. So, she's going to be even more ruthless than he was in cutting it out.

Disclaimer: I am an absolute and complete airhead, and forgot to do this in the last chapter, so here we go: _Arrow_ doesn't belong to me. Oliver Queen and his family don't belong to me, the Merlyn family doesn't belong to me, and the Lance family doesn't belong to me. Only the idea and Ginny Weston/Azulay belong to me.

Chapter Two

The Last Resort

He found her atop Merlyn Global … it shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. She stood with her back to him, one foot up on the ledge as she stared down at the city … at his city. Even now, as he had most of the pieces together, he still couldn't believe it. This was his Aunt Becca … the woman who drove down to see him and Tommy at camp on Parents' Night when his parents couldn't get away; the woman who cheered as loudly for him as she did for Tommy at their games; the woman who was always there for them both, no matter what the circumstances. And all this time … all this time …

He just couldn't wrap his mind around it, around any of it. Even worse, how was Tommy feeling about all this? Yeah, their friendship had taken a series of hits over the last few months, especially after Oliver revealed his night-time activities to his lifelong best friend. But surely, the Merlyn scion knew that Oliver wouldn't lie to him about something as important as this, didn't he? Oliver shook his head. _Focus_ , he told himself. _Felicity and Dig are doing their jobs, Lance is doing his … this is your job._

And so, he began to move forward, step by painful step. She spoke as he drew closer, "You were my one regret, Oliver … but once I learned that you were on board, it was too late to change my plans." With those words, Rebecca Merlyn … his Aunt Becca … turned to face him. She looked tired, was the first thing that came to his mind, much to his surprise. She looked tired and drained … but resolute. Aunt Becca went on, "I'm sorry that you and Sara Lance were caught in the middle of this. Neither of you deserved the crucible that you endured."

Oliver tensed, because how could she know that Sara was still alive? Aunt Becca offered a tired smile, explaining, "I have contacts all over the world, Ollie. I've known for some time that Sara is alive. I even know where she is … and it's not a place I would want my own daughter to be. I suppose that's why I've never told Detective Lance where she is. After all, what's crueler … believing your daughter to be dead, or knowing that she's alive and can't come home? How would I feel if it was Thea?"

Thea? What was she talking about? Why was she talking about Thea as if she was her daughter? The corners of Aunt Becca's mouth quirked and she said quietly, "You know, even after five years in hell and everything that entails, I can still read your expressions just as easily as I did when you and Tommy were eight, and trying to convince Malcolm to run interference while you stole cookies from the jar. Thea _is_ my daughter, Ollie … mine and Malcolm. Your mother only carried her as my surrogate when I realized I couldn't carry her full-term."

Thea was Aunt Becca's daughter. She was Tommy's sister. Oliver felt the world tilt under him, but he tried to remain focused. Aunt Becca shattered that attempt, though, when she added thoughtfully, "I wonder, though … what it would have felt like to kill your father with my own hands? I wanted to, you know … especially after Malcolm's funeral. My husband was barely in his grave, and that bastard was putting the moves on me." The words were all but spat out, and Oliver gaped at her. Aunt Becca offered a humorless smile, asking, "Are you really surprised? You shouldn't be, you know. It wasn't the last time, either … when I went to Moira with my request, your father actually had the gall to ask if I was sure I wanted Malcolm's child by surrogate, and not his own by a more old-fashioned way."

Oliver shook his head, both in negation of Aunt Becca's words and to clear his mind. Dad wasn't a saint, but he wasn't a sleaze, either … he was just joking, and Aunt Becca misunderstood what he said … that had to be the case. He said almost pleadingly, "Don't make me do this, Aunt Becca. _Please_. I don't want to hurt you, and I learned so much on that island … so much since. Don't make me do this to Tommy. You haven't gone too far yet … there's still a chance to turn back." Slade would have kicked his ass for talking so much, but Slade wasn't here, and this … this was his second mother, she and Raisa. Aunt Becca merely shook her head, and Oliver said, even as his muscles tensed, "You know that Uncle Malcolm wouldn't want you to do this."

"You're right. But it isn't just for Malcolm that I'm doing this. It's for Tommy, and all the nights he cried himself to sleep because he missed his daddy. It's for Thea, who never had the chance to know her father. It's for every victim claimed in the Glades over the last thirty years, because no one gave a damn … and the ones who did had their compassion drained from them. It's for this city, which is rotting at the core, and not a damn thing I've tried has worked. I'm a doctor, Oliver, and sometimes, in order to save the patient, an amputation is what's needed. That's what the Undertaking is … it's an amputation and a cleansing!" Aunt Becca retorted.

Oliver could only shake his head, barely able to say, "I _will_ stop you." Because he wasn't sure if he could. She beat him once already, during their fight on New Year's Eve, and beaten him badly. Worse, she truly believed that she was doing the right thing. She truly believed that this was the only way to set things to rights. Aunt Becca's smile turned almost fond at that, and she opened her arms, as if to embrace him … only to flick a knife she'd been carrying up her sleeve toward him. Oliver dodged and prayed that Lance had found the Markov device, because if he was unable to defeat his family's former friend, Laurel's father would be the city's only chance.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

He was in a coma for twenty years. His son was a grown man. His wife, his idealistic Rebecca, was planning to level an entire part of their city … the same section where he'd nearly died so many years earlier. It was a lot to take in for one man, and the hits just kept coming. He truly wasn't sure which was more of a shock to him … that twenty years had passed or that Becca was planning to level their city. He could still remember the day she opened her free clinic in the Glades. She was so very proud … so sure that she could make life better for the residents of the Glades.

What happened to her? It wasn't just that he was shot … and Malcolm Merlyn only barely remembered that. He remembered their argument that morning … one of many triggered by his fears that something would happen to her. He also remembered his niggling guilt over the course of the afternoon, especially after he turned off his phone when she called around lunch time. He couldn't help feeling that if he left things alone and stewed in his own guilt and hurt, he would end up regretting it for the rest of his life.

And so, since he was the boss, he told his personal secretary that he was leaving for the day … picking up his wife to go to dinner. He received a broad smile and left Merlyn Global for the clinic in the Glades, stopping long enough to pick up Rebecca's favorite flowers. He remembered their reconciliation, and Rebecca leaving the flowers on her desk … a reminder, she said, that he and Tommy were just as important as her patients. They headed out to his car, hand-in-hand, where they were accosted by a young man, and things became a blur at that point.

Tommy (no longer eight years old, now twenty-eight years old and seriously involved with a young woman) filled in the rest of the details, explaining that the boy he remembered was trying to join a gang, and Rebecca was his chosen victim. Except, Malcolm got in the way … literally. There were vague memories of lying in Rebecca's arms and telling her that he loved her, that he was so sorry about the argument that morning … and memories of her weeping and telling him that he wasn't to apologize for anything, he was right, and please just hang on. This was interspersed with Rebecca's desperate cries for help. Help, he learned now, that never came.

From what he could piece together from Tommy and Ginny (the only person who wasn't truly changed), Rebecca managed to drag him into the clinic, where she stopped the bleeding. The rest … well, he'd been in a coma for twenty years. Malcolm closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. His brain felt like it was overloading, and if Tommy hadn't been at his side, holding his hand tightly, Malcolm was afraid he would have fallen off the world. Oh, he knew that was a physical impossibility, but right now, absolutely nothing made sense, and that included the fact that Quentin Lance's older daughter stood a few yards away, now a lawyer and dating Tommy. Malcolm looked back at his son (who looked so much like him … oh, not a twin, but Tommy definitely favored Malcolm in terms of looks), and Tommy offered him a strained smile. Malcolm squeezed his hand, because there were no words that Malcolm could find to comfort his son. If all of this was a shock for him, how much more of it was difficult for Tommy, who grew up believing that his father was dead? He grew up with Rebecca and never saw what she didn't want anyone to see … Malcolm would need to make sure that his (not so little) boy didn't blame himself for that.

Ginny was on the phone as well, half-sitting on top of a desk, legs swinging back and forth, as they did when she and Malcolm were children, and sitting in chairs much too big for them. And because she was the only person who truly hadn't changed … aged, yes, but not changed … Malcolm focused on her. They hadn't had a chance to talk much since he woke up … there was a ring on the third finger of her left hand, but she already told the Lance girl (Laurel?) that she wasn't married. A widow, perhaps? That fit in with the sadness in her dark eyes. The Ginny he remembered was often solemn (often playful, too) … but not sad. And this sorrow wasn't an overwhelming ache, but a quiet grief several years old. He would find out the reason for it. Once they prevented Becca from leveling the city, they …

Malcolm's attention was drawn back to the present when Ginny straightened and said, "You do? Okay, and when were those installed? I understand that, and I've got Tommy Merlyn right here if you want to talk to him." She fell silent once again, as all eyes turned to her, and Ginny sucked in her lower lip (that knot in Malcolm's chest eased a little more at that bit of familiarity). After a moment, she said, "Thank you, that would help." She removed the phone from its position between her head and shoulder, saying quietly, "It occurred to me that Rebecca would want to see the destruction … and when I arrived three weeks ago, the roof was one of the first places she took me. Said she wanted me to see how spectacular the view was. I asked her if she spent a lot of time up here, trying to work things out and … yes? She isn't? Okay, thank you!"

With those words, she hung up the phone and said, "Rebecca is up there, but she isn't alone. The Hood is up there as well!" The Hood? That didn't sound promising. At Malcolm's side, Tommy's hand tightened around his own, and Malcolm looked at his (grown) son. He wasn't the only one. Laurel Lance hung up the phone, but it was Ginny who asked, "Tommy? What is it, what's wrong?" Malcolm eyed his son worriedly … Tommy's eyes had widened, and his breath was coming in short, explosive gasps.

"It's Oliver," his son choked out, "Oliver is up there with her." Oliver? The only Oliver who Malcolm knew was Oliver Queen, Moira and Robert's son (and were they still alive?). Tommy looked over at young Miss Lance, adding hoarsely, "Oliver is the Hood. I found out when the attempt was made on Mom's life. Ollie is the Hood, Laurel." The young woman went white, and Tommy shook his head, muttering, "Ollie told me what Mom was doing, and I didn't believe him. How could I? She's my mom."

"Tommy, stop. This isn't your fault. You didn't create this situation and if adults around you didn't notice, why would you? So, let's focus on trying to save the city. I don't know how good this Oliver is, but there is a chance that your mom will get the better of him in their fight. He's got a lot of baggage where Rebecca is concerned. And I really didn't want to do this, but … I think we'll have to let Malcolm come with us," Ginny sighed in frustration. Malcolm raised his eyebrows, because really? She thought she could 'let' him do anything? Well, well. It appeared there _were_ changes in her after all. She glared right back at him, saying, "I _know_ you, Malcolm. I know that if we tried to leave you here, you'd find a way up to the roof, even if you had to crawl." Malcolm allowed himself a tiny smile, because yes … yes, he would. Ginny went on, "But! You are still wobbly. Yes, you are, Malcolm! Your legs can't hold you, and unfortunately, Rebecca didn't think to leave a wheelchair up here! So, we have to plan this."

"I can run ahead and summon the elevator," Laurel said quietly. She'd never looked directly at him, and that made Malcolm curious, but that could wait until later. However, she did look directly at Ginny, saying, "Mrs. Azulay, I did see a cane that Tommy's father can use, if you don't mind looking after this little guy while I get it." Azulay? Mrs? Ginny had married? Well, it _had_ been twenty years … and that would explain the ring on her finger. Ginny merely nodded, and Laurel Lance led the little boy over to Tommy, smiling a bit sadly as the child crawled into his son's lap, and then left the room. Malcolm noted the way his son and Laurel looked at each other as the little boy snuggled against Tommy's chest. He needed to talk to his son about that later as well … there was a history involving a child between them, and Malcolm sensed that it wasn't their child. It was selfish, he knew … but he had only just awakened, and he wasn't ready to be a grandfather yet.

After Laurel left, it was Tommy who inquired, "Azulay? I thought your last name was Weston." It was her maiden name, but evidently, that was how Rebecca introduced her to Tommy. But what really interested Malcolm, aside from his old friend's story, was how Laurel knew her married name. Laurel knew it, but Tommy didn't. And so far as Malcolm knew, today was the first time they had met.

"Weston is my maiden name. I'm a widow … my husband was killed nearly fifteen years ago. He and Quentin Lance were friends … it's how your girlfriend knows my married name," Ginny answered with a small flinch. Tommy winced and nodded. Ginny changed the subject (a sure sign that she wasn't ready to talk about something), "The cane that Laurel mentioned will be helpful, but you and I will need to support your dad, Tommy. I still wish Rebecca left a wheelchair, but she may have done that deliberately … knowing that once we knew what would happened, we'd want to interfere, and given how wobbly Malcolm is at the moment …" That was entirely possible. In fact, Malcolm would stake his entire company (if, indeed, it was still his … based on what he was hearing from Ginny and Tommy, it was entirely likely that he was legally dead) on that being his wife's plan.

And Tommy, his lips twisting into a rough approximation of a smile, observed, "Mom should know better than that. Even when I was little, I always knew that Dad was one of the most determined people in the world. I remember, when I was six, Mom admired a doll house, and mentioned that her dad made her one like it when she was a little girl. Dad decided that was what she was getting for Christmas. But he wasn't going to buy it ready made … oh, no, he was going to make it for her, even though he hadn't a clue about doing something like that. And he did! I remember sitting beside him in Robert and Moira's garage, me and Ollie helping him."

To Malcolm, that had been only two years earlier … and he remembered vividly the way his wife's eyes lit up when he removed the blindfold. He also remembered the kisses (and other things) that were his reward … as well as Tommy and Ollie groaning in unison, ' _Ew, kissing_!' Robert had laughed and told the boys, ' _Give it about ten years, you two … you'll be saying something entirely different_!' He looked at his son once more, and Tommy said softly, "Robert told us that we would be saying something different in ten years. He was right. I wish he was here now … he'd be so happy to see you."

Then Robert was dead. What of Moira? He didn't get the chance to ask, however, as Laurel Lance returned with the aforementioned cane. Tommy and Ginny shared a look, and then Tommy eased the child from his lap. His son took one side, his childhood best friend took the other, and together, they eased Malcolm to his feet. The little boy whom Ms. Lance found in the Glades ran to her side, and ignoring the weakness of his limbs, ignoring the way his body shook, ignoring the waves of dizziness that swept over him and the way his son and friend's held onto his trembling body, Malcolm Merlyn took his first steps in twenty years. He said breathlessly as Laurel's little helper pushed the cane into his hands, "Let's go. We still have a chance to save the Glades." To do what, he didn't know … but one thing Malcolm did know. He couldn't have the deaths of all those people on his conscience … he wasn't strong enough for so many people to die in his name.

TBC

Additional Notes: Given that Malcolm just emerged from a twenty-year coma, it's highly unlikely that he would be able to stay awake, much less walk. However, this is Malcolm Merlyn we're discussing, and the man doesn't know how to quit. I think that would be true even if Rebecca hadn't been killed. It's just part of who he is.


	3. Chapter 3: In Her Husband's Name

Author's Notes: Sometimes, a story just sits there … gathering dust in the back of my mind while I try to figure out how I want to start the next chapter. And then, a single sentence floats into my brain and unlocks what I want to say next. That's what happened this time around. I started this chapter before I left for Hungary, and managed to finish it a week after returning home. So, in this chapter, we have Ginny reflecting; the confrontation between Oliver and Rebecca reaches its climax … as does Rebecca's plan of revenge against the people of the Glades.

Chapter Three

In Her Husband's Name

Virginia Weston couldn't remember a time when Malcolm Merlyn wasn't in her life … when she didn't love him, in one form or another. When they were children, it was the love of one friend for another, innocent and uncomplicated. And then, when they were older … well. The point remained, for as far back as she could remember, Malcolm was a part of her life. And the grief she felt when she thought he was dead threatened to swallow her whole. She tried to remain in Starling, knowing that her grief was nothing compared to Rebecca's … but in the end, there were just too many memories to haunt her, too much history. Too many places where she looked for Malcolm and didn't see him, would never see him again. She left, telling Rebecca that she would come back if she was needed. But she knew she wouldn't be … after all, Rebecca had Tommy, not to mention the Queens-Moira and Robert-and they were more than enough, right? (She was so wrong).

Once outside her hometown, she began slowly, methodically putting away the girl who loved Malcolm Merlyn. Some of that was easy. Changing her appearance, for instance … that was easy. Allowing her hair to grow out from the crop she'd worn for much of her life up until then, for instance. But Malcolm claimed so much of her heart, and it was so damn hard to find anyone who could claim the rest of it. Add to that, she wasn't particularly attractive … she wasn't like Rebecca or Moira. She was Ginny, no one special, and the only person (aside from her mother) who seemed to think she might be special was … Malcolm.

But then, a little more than five years after his 'death,' she was sitting in a Manhattan restaurant when a handsome young man almost fell into her table. She still wasn't sure how he managed that (normally, he wasn't that klutzy). But that young man, Yonatan Azulay, did something no one could do since Malcolm's death … he made her laugh. They were married within the year, and for the first time in too long, Ginny was happy. So, of course, it didn't last. Her Yonatan was killed in late 2001, shattering Ginny. Only the revelation that she was two months pregnant with his last gift kept her from spinning out of control.

And speaking of Yonatan's final gift … Not for the first time, Ginny was relieved that Jasmine was with her own mother in New Mexico, where Ginny and her daughter lived for the last ten years. For one thing, Jasmine needed to finish out the school year … and for another, her twelve year old daughter _really_ didn't need to be in the middle of this mess. It was bad enough that she was in the middle of this, let alone her little girl. Speaking of which … Ginny grimaced as she once again adjusted her hold on Malcolm. Damn stubborn man! Then again, that was likely one reason he was still alive, along with Rebecca's refusal to give up on him.

Rebecca. Even now, after hearing from Tommy what she was planning … Ginny wasn't sure what to make of the call Rebecca made to her two weeks earlier. After the pleasantries were out of the way (including how Rebecca located her), her old friend's wife asked her to come to Starling City. She was lonely … a recent attempt on her life scared her badly, and she'd always regretted not reaching out to Ginny after Yonatan's death. Ginny was a comfort to her after Malcolm was shot, and while the departure of her husband's childhood best friend hurt, Rebecca understood why Ginny couldn't stay … but could she come back, if only for a visit?

After a conversation with her mother, in which she was assured that of _course_ she should go, and of _course_ her mother and daughter would be fine together, Ginny agreed … and had everything she _thought_ she knew upended when Rebecca led her into the sickroom inside Merlyn Global, the sickroom which was Malcolm's home for the last twenty years. Malcolm was waking up, Rebecca explained, and she had a very important project that was now coming to fruition. Could Ginny look after him? Of course she could.

Also, of course, she had no idea that Rebecca's very important project was leveling the part of the city where Malcolm was shot, where he almost died. But would it have changed anything? In spite of herself, Ginny had to admit that it wouldn't have. Tommy and Malcolm needed her, maybe now more than ever. And while she hated what it said about her, she could even see where Rebecca was coming from … she could see that painfully well. How many times after Yonatan's death had she wished to strike out at those who took that beautiful man from her and their daughter? How many times had her grief and rage threatened to choke her? It made Ginny sick to admit it, but she knew she wasn't that different from Rebecca … the only difference between them was that Rebecca had access to resources that Ginny didn't.

And so now, she and Tommy Merlyn held his (very) wobbly father between them as they pushed their way to the roof, where Tommy's long-time best friend was facing off with Rebecca in a desperate bid to prevent the destruction of the Glades. It was not, Ginny discovered, going well … a young man was on his knees before Rebecca. And yet, it wasn't the Rebecca whom Ginny had come to know. This was a Rebecca attired entirely in black (and, Ginny could admit to herself, one who looked pretty damn bad-ass), with a smile best described as 'feral' on her face.

Somewhat in the back of her mind, Ginny acknowledged that this woman, decked out in leather and fully prepared to take the life of others to avenge the near-loss of her own husband … this was the real Rebecca Merlyn. Not the pretty, dainty woman attired in a business suit, who met her in the baggage claim at the airport four days earlier. This was the real Rebecca, and dear God, she was terrifying. (But if it was terrifying for her, how much worse was it for Malcolm and for Tommy?)

And as for the young man on his knees before her … this was Oliver? This was the cute little boy she remembered (however vaguely) from the funeral for a man who wasn't really dead? Ginny shuddered, because she could see traces of that little boy in the man, and … and that just wasn't right. That little boy shouldn't be on his knees, fingers clawing desperately at the nylon cord wrapped around his throat as he struggled to breathe. None of this should be happening. She wasn't the only one who thought so, because on Malcolm's other side, Tommy cried out, "Mom, stop this!" Rebecca's head snapped around in their direction and Ginny sucked in a breath at the other woman's expression. Things were already bad … but now, they looked to get much _, much_ worse.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Tommy Merlyn honestly thought after the revelations over the last day and a half, that his life couldn't possibly get any weirder … and that the day couldn't possibly get any worse. He was wrong on both counts. He still remembered his father carrying him to bed when he was a small boy … remembered laying his head on his father's shoulder, and the soft tone his father would use as he scooped Tommy up into his arms. He remembered his father's arms around him, and the feel of his heart against Tommy's cheek. And oh yes, he remembered feeling safe, as if nothing bad could touch him while his daddy was around. The morning he came downstairs, to find his mother in shock as Moira Queen held her hand, to learn that his daddy was gone and would never come back … after that day, he never really felt safe again.

So yeah, it was beyond weird for him not just to be the same height as his father, but to be supporting him as they made their way onto the roof to stop the destruction of the Glades. That wasn't taking into account the sight of his mother … his mom, for God's sake … standing behind Oliver, with a cord wrapped around his neck. In her black leather catsuit, she looked a bit like a dominatrix, and that was really not a thought you ever wanted to have about your mother, because, uhm, ew?

But it wasn't that which caused Tommy to cry out. Nor was it his father's flagging strength. No, Thomas Malcolm Merlyn cried out, "Mom, stop this!" And he did it because Ollie was turning purple, and his fingers clawed at the garrote which Tommy's own mother was using on him, on the boy she watched grow up … even helped to raise. As angry as Tommy was with Ollie over the last few weeks (because of Laurel and so many other reasons), this was still his best friend. And he didn't want Ollie to die, especially not now, so soon after he finally gotten him back.

Mom's head reared up at the sound of Tommy's voice, and her expression of steely determination gave way to … something else. She said, "You weren't supposed to come up here, Tommy … you were supposed to stay with your dad, and take care of each other. Then again, you're as much Malcolm's son as you are mine, and he's always been one of the most stubborn men I've ever met." In this case, Tommy would definitely take that as a compliment.

There was a choked sound coming from behind him, and his dad called, "Rebecca, please … that's Oliver! That's Tommy's best friend, that's Robert and Moira's son!" That weird smile came back and his mother actually laughed. More and more, Tommy was feeling as if this wasn't really his mother … he didn't know who she was, but this wasn't the woman who raised him. This wasn't the woman who comforted him after his many nightmares about his father's death, not the woman who praised him for standing up for a bullied little girl at school (' _you are so much like your father … I am so proud of you_!'). He didn't know who this was, but it wasn't his mother. It looked like her, it sounded like her, but … it wasn't. It couldn't be. Could it?

"Robert and Moira's son? Maybe I'd be doing the world a favor by ridding it of the child of two traitors. Moira betrayed my trust, time after time, and Robert … Robert thought it would be perfectly acceptable to make a move on a grieving widow at her husband's funeral. For that alone, I should kill his son, since I was robbed the chance to kill his father!" his mother retorted bitterly. Tommy felt as though all the air was just sucked out of his lungs. What? He thought back frantically to that horrible day, trying to remember any encounter between his mother and Robert Queen. Then again, he didn't remember much of anything, aside from Oliver's constant presence and the warmth of Ginny Weston's arms around him and the crushing grief.

He didn't remember … but someone else did. On his father's other side, Tommy heard Ginny gasp, " _That's_ what he said to upset you? Dammit, Becca, I wish I'd known … I would have introduced my knee to his family jewels!" Which, on the face of it, was not exactly the most appropriate thing to say under the circumstances, but Tommy appreciated the sentiment. A glance at his father told him that his dad felt the same way, even if he really, _really_ wanted Mom to ease up strangling Oliver. And was Ollie's face a slightly lighter shade of purple?

Or maybe not, as his lifelong best friend finally slumped forward. Mom shook her head sadly, murmuring, "I really thought he had more than this …" She relaxed her grip … and Tommy finally understood the phrase, ' _my blood ran cold'_ as Oliver suddenly, violently came back to life, half-twisted on his knees, _and drove an arrow into the chest of Tommy's mother_. She choked and staggered back, hand going to the arrow, before collapsing backward against the roof of his father's building. For a moment, Tommy was eight years old, and the only thing he heard, the only thing he could hear, was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Ollie slumped forward, gasping for breath, but Tommy ignored him as he released his father and raced to his fallen parent. Behind him, Dad was screaming Mom's name, but Tommy ignored that as well. He sank to his knees beside his mother, hissing at the bloody bubbles forming around her mouth as he drew her head into his lap. He was angry with her, hurt that she'd kept his dad from him all these years … but she was still his mom.

What seemed like hours later, his father was collapsing beside them, his hand reaching out to touch Mom's face, to brush her hair out of her eyes. Ginny knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder. Tommy looked up, looked away from his mother, to see tears rolling down his father's cheeks as he murmured apologies for God only knew what. A few feet away, Laurel was hugging the little boy, as if she wasn't sure what else to do. Finally, his eyes shifted back to his brother in all but blood. Ollie pushed himself to his feet, his face almost blank as he listened to something only he could hear. He knelt on Mom's other side, murmuring, "It's over, Aunt Becca. Your earthquake device has been disabled. Your Undertaking has been stopped."

To Tommy's astonishment, Mom started to laugh, more bloody bubbles forming at her mouth. But she didn't answer Ollie. Instead, she turned her head toward Dad, rasping out, "I … finally … understand, Malcolm. What … makes … a … business … successful." Tommy glanced at his father, wondering if he understood what Mom was saying, but Dad looked like he was in shock, and his mother's words weren't registering. He was mouthing, ' _what, sweetheart, what are you saying?'_ A sad, tender smile touched Mom's face as she whispered, " _Redundancy_." Tommy frowned. What the hell did …? And that was when it started … the shaking of the very ground under their feet. At the same time, horrified understanding crossed his father's face.

"Get down! Everyone, get down!" Dad cried out, and pushed Ginny forward, before throwing himself over her protectively. Tommy ducked over his mother at the same time, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Laurel pushing the little boy from her lap before shielding him with her own body. And then he ducked down his own head once more, because it was all he could do to keep his own balance, even kneeling, as the city seemed to shake apart. He saw nothing … but he heard more than enough. He heard an ominous rumbling, heard screams, heard sirens that were cut off in mid-wail. He also heard the little boy whimpering in Laurel's arms, his father's quiet sobs, Ginny's equally soft prayers. He _didn't_ hear his mother breathing.

When at last the ground stopped shaking, Tommy raised his head. At first, he could see very little … a dust cloud hung over the city, hiding the damage from sight. He allowed, in the tiniest part of himself, the hope that the damage wasn't that bad (he knew it was). The young man glanced down at the woman in his lap. His mother's eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at the night sky, a faint smile on her lips. Carefully, Tommy eased out from under her, carefully lowering her head to the ground, before rising to his feet.

He immediately wished he hadn't. Fires were breaking out all over the city, and by the light of those fires, Tommy could see the hell that his mother unleashed upon the city. His mother … his mother did this. How many died tonight, because his mother couldn't forgive the bastard who shot his father, the people who walked past, or herself? Because Tommy knew this for a certainty … there was a part of his mother which never forgave herself for working so late that night. His father never would have been there, if it weren't for her late nights at the clinic.

"Help me up, Ginny, I need to see … I need to see what she's done in my name," he heard his father choke out. However, it wasn't Ginny who helped his father to his feet … but Oliver. And how he could stand to have his wife's killer touching him, Tommy had no idea (yes, he knew it was self-defense … the point stood). The group shuffled closer to the edge of the building, and Tommy bit back a curse as he viewed the destruction below him. It would be far worse by daylight, he knew … but by firelight, it was bad enough.

"How … how many do you think there were?" Laurel asked, her voice trembling. Tommy merely shook his head. There'd been more than one … Mom said as much before she … before all hell broke loose. He wasn't even sure if it mattered. Except, it kinda did. He glanced at Oliver, who was staring down at the city below them, his face ashen with horror (where it wasn't bruised by his confrontation with Tommy's mother), and then at his father, who was swaying. He thought of his mother's assertion that his father was the most stubborn man she'd ever met, and yes, here was proof of that.

"At least three … maybe four. God. I haven't seen anything like this since … since before my daughter was born. There will be so many dead … so many hurting," Ginny answered, her voice barely above a whisper. Yes. So much suffering. So much anger and so much hatred in the wake of this Undertaking of his mother's. In the days and weeks ahead, Starling City would be no place to be for anyone named 'Queen' or 'Merlyn.'

He hated himself for even thinking that, when so many lost their lives, lost their homes, perhaps even their jobs … but it was true. Starling City would not welcome him or his father, probably not even Oliver. But this was their home, too … and amends would need to be made, even though the guilty party was dead. He shouldn't be thinking such things, he knew. He just lost his mother, in more ways than one, and discovered that his father was very much alive. He should be in shock, and perhaps he was. But in the midst of his shock, his mind was clear. His mother had destroyed their city … it would be up to him and his father to help rebuild it.

He just hoped they would be up to the challenge.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4: Dangerous

Author's Notes: No, this story hasn't been abandoned. I try to finish stories even when there's very little interest in them. I just hit a dry spell, and then my _Star Wars_ muses roared back with a vengeance. That was followed by a hectic time at work (which is still going on). When I first started this series, I was only planning a one-shot … but with each story I told, I began to realize that switching out Malcolm and Rebecca would impact things I never even considered. And in this chapter, we meet another such individual, whose life was changed by Rebecca's survival … someone probably no one anticipated being affected. Dear readers, I present Slade Wilson's entrance into this universe (and believe me, he growled all the way).

Response to Reviewers:

Guest: Thank you … switching out Rebecca and Malcolm was an interesting concept, one that refused to leave me alone. Of course, that brought all-new challenges, not just for the characters, but for me as well (especially with regards to the final confrontation between Oliver and Rebecca). Malcolm and Oliver are roughly the same height … how would the confrontation between Oliver and Rebecca play out, given that Oliver is taller, and how would Rebecca get the upper hand? (Well, we still don't know how she got the upper hand, as such, but she did have Oliver on his knees)

Chapter Four

Dangerous

Starling City

Approximately twelve hours later

He made his way through the devastated city, head on a pivot and a protective arm shielding the traumatized teenager at his side. He could protect her body (to a point) … protecting her soul and her heart from what they were seeing and hearing was another thing entirely. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing. This wasn't in his plan … it hadn't been part of his plan to be in Starling City, much less when Lady Macbeth decided to unleash hell. And that was exactly what this was: hell. This was far more devastating than anything he could have dreamed up to hurt the kid. And considering his nightmares, that said a lot. Yeah, Lady Macbeth was shaking everything up, making him hard pressed to go ahead with his current plans to put Oliver Queen through hell. To make matters worse, he didn't exactly have a plan b available, even as his rage remained.

But on the other hand, something Lady Macbeth told him once kept repeating in his brain. She'd called him to her office, only hours after the kid was reported as alive and home. ' _I'm told you have reason to hate Oliver Queen,'_ shesaid as she leaned against her desk _, 'but I'm prepared to make it worth your as my partner. I have no doubt that you could level this city … but it is my city as well, and I plan to cleanse it. That being said, I've often thought that the most devastating sort of revenge is subtle, psychological.'_ He'd been … not intrigued, but warily interested. She'd smiled and invited him to dinner with her and her young associate, Isabel Rochev, who also had reason to hate the Queen family.

Her first order of business was curing him of the Mirakuru. She didn't need a super soldier … someone lethal, yes, but not that strong. Plus, as she dryly observed to him one night, she was emotionally unstable enough … as was Isabel. Put three emotionally unstable people together, and things would get truly ugly. He couldn't argue with that. However, that cure came with a price, as it so often did. He no longer saw Shado, and that was a devastating blow to him. So much so, it set his recovery back. It was only in the last two weeks that Slade was able to function normally again. In the past, the thought of hurting Thea Queen to get at her brother didn't even register with him. But now, when he looked at her, he saw his son, who was only a few years younger, and he knew he couldn't do anything to her. Not even to make the kid pay.

Once Lady Macbeth was satisfied that he wouldn't hurt her daughter, she sent him to China White's hideout. Her actual instructions were, if she was reported dead, he was to retrieve Thea and return her to her family … whatever was left of it. If White protested, Slade had carte blanche to do whatever necessary to secure Thea. China White was a useful asset, nothing more … but Thea was her daughter. Her safety and comfort was Lady Macbeth's top priority. She'd smiled at that point, a wicked smile that made him shudder. And how did he think Oliver would feel if it was the supposedly-late Slade Wilson who walked in with his sister? Devious woman … devious and terrifying, but also right. He could just about imagine the look on the kid's face when he arrived with his baby sister.

And Slade Wilson wasn't a good man (not any more, not since Shado, maybe longer than that), but harming an already-traumatized little girl made him itchy. Thea Queen (or maybe he should call her Thea Merlyn) was trembling in the circle of his arms. She hadn't been in the room when he'd killed China White and the rest of her crew, so it was something that happened before that. Not that she would tell him about it, but he saw no horror in her expression when she saw White's dead body … when she saw all of the dead bodies littering the hideout. Slade tightened his arm around her, saying softly, "We'll be there soon, kid. I know it's scary, and I know a lot of people are hurting, but the best thing we can do for everyone is keep moving."

"They … they told me that I wasn't really the daughter of Robert and Moira Queen. That I was the daughter of Rebecca and Malcolm Merlyn. But how can that be? I was born years after Malcolm Merlyn died! And … my biological mother, she did all this? What kind of people … if that's true, what kind of people do I come from?" Thea asked, the first words she'd spoken since he led her out of the white-haired bitch's lair. Slade thought briefly about stopping and talking some sense to the girl, but he didn't dare, not when Merlyn Global was so close. According to what he'd been hearing, Starling City's finest were setting up their temporary headquarters there, since their own station was demolished in the quake.

Instead, he murmured, just loud enough for only to hear, "Where you came from, that doesn't matter. What matters is who you choose to be. You can be like the Queens or like your biological mother, or you can be Thea. We aren't tied to the fates of our parents." With relief, he saw the entrance to Merlyn Global and steered the girl toward it, and then through it. Inside, the pair found controlled chaos. A young man Slade dimly recognized was on the phone … a girl who Slade did recognize (Oliver's treasured Laurel) was tending to a little boy sitting on the reception desk. There was a man who Slade didn't recognize … but Thea did.

She stopped right in the middle of the foyer, breathing, "It … it's not possible, he's dead!" Slade looked once more at the man, who was listing against the same desk where the little boy was being tended, man and child both looking pale and tired. A dark-haired woman stopped at his side every few minutes, touching him briefly and exchanging words with him. Thea looked up at him and told him, her voice quavering once more, "That's Malcolm Merlyn … my biological father, but he's supposed to be dead!"

Slade bit back his reply … that the man question looked pretty damn lively for a dead man to him … and just in time. Thea told him what she knew to be the truth, what Lady Macbeth let the entire city (as well as her partners … and where was Isabel, anyhow?) think for the last twenty years. Besides, it was then that the young man looked up as he ended his call and his eyes widened upon seeing Thea. He rushed over, crying out, "Thea, thank God you're all right! I don't know who you are, Mister, but thank you for looking out for her." Slade released Thea and she rushed into the young man's arms. He added over Thea's head, "I'm Tommy Merlyn. Ginny! Thea's here, she's safe!"

The dark-haired woman who was tending to Merlyn, Sr. strode over. She was a few years younger than Slade … she was also tiny, determined, and clearly exhausted by the events of the last twelve hours. But there was only compassion in her eyes as she joined Tommy Merlyn and his younger sister. She murmured, "Do you have her?" Tommy nodded, wrapping an arm around the traumatized girl, and the woman named 'Ginny' turned to him, saying, "C'mon … you brought Thea to us safely, the least we can do is feed you. And no, I won't be taking 'no' for an answer. As bad as this is, it's only going to get worse, and I'll take what I can get of people cooperating with us. Laurel, you'll keep an eye on Malcolm for me? Oh, don't even try to pull that with me, mister … I've known you all of our lives, and I know you're just as stubborn now as when we were kids!"

The kid's Laurel laughed and agreed, and Malcolm Merlyn crossed his eyes at her, but stayed put (and opened his arms to Thea … the girl hesitated only for a moment before falling into them and clinging to her biological father like he was the only solid thing in her life). That left Slade, who turned his attention back to the pint-sized general in front of him. There was no talking his temporary hostess out of this, especially since she had a firm grip on his wrist and was towing him toward what he presumed was the cafeteria. She continued as they walked, "Malcolm opened up the building not just to the police, but anyone with medical experience once we realized how badly things were. There were some who wouldn't have made it to the hospital, and Rebecca kept medical equipment on the same floor as her office. Oh, and I'm Ginny Weston Azulay. I grew up with Malcolm."

Slade thought briefly about giving her another name, one of his aliases, but in the end chose to tell her that truth at least (if only to freak the kid out when he found out who brought his little sister back), and replied, "Slade Wilson. So, Malcolm Merlyn survived his injuries?" He remembered hearing about it back when it happened. He was on a training exercise here in the States at the time. It hadn't much interested him, hearing about the apparent death of a rich bloke, but his trainer advised him to remember that everything was important. It seemed the old bastard was more right than he knew.

Ginny Weston Azulay sighed and raked her hand through her hair, answering, "That is a very long story, but yes." She didn't seem inclined to say anything further, and while it was mildly frustrating to Slade, he appreciated that she apparently realized that it was none of his business. She led him down a level (the cafeteria wasn't on the same level?) and into what wasn't so much a cafeteria as a small restaurant. In the back was a large kitchen. She murmured, "Get something to eat. I need to make sure that Idiot Senior is doing as he was told."

"Do you know where Oliver Queen is?" The words were out before Slade was even aware of thinking them. Ginny Weston Azulay's dark eyes snapped back to him. Slade tried to cover up, saying, "It's only that Thea's his sister …" Why did he have a feeling that he was making things worse? And why was he even trying to cover up? This woman was his own age, if not slightly younger, not even close to being old enough to be his mother.

And then she said, "Oliver's … he had work to do in another part of the city. I told him I'd phone him when Thea was found. Which I should do now. Thank you again for looking after her, Mr. Wilson." She inclined her head, and then swept out of the cafeteria. Feeling at a loss, Slade headed for the food line … he was here, he might as well get something to eat. Figure out some other way to make Oliver pay for his part in Shado's death, since Lady Macbeth took care of destroying his city … a way that would truly hurt him, but not others. He may be rethinking just how he would go about it, but he still kept his promises.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Ms. Ginny, Dr. Wainwright says we're running out of bandages!"

Ginny stopped as one of the younger admin assistants at Merlyn Global ran up to her, out of breath. It took Ginny a moment to remember her name … Caroline (which gave way to Callie a few hours earlier). She'd been trapped here at the building by the traffic the night before and fell asleep under her desk (evidently, she had no idea of the confrontation that raged on top, and woke up when the quake hit … and stayed hidden under the desk). When Malcolm made the decision to open the building early this morning not just to the police department, but to anyone who was injured and couldn't make it to the hospital, she volunteered to help in any way she could. She didn't have any medical training whatsoever, but she could run errands with the best of them. Ginny needed only a moment to come up with a plan. Tommy could call Oliver ... this needed to be done immediately.

The chances were good that the pharmacies and department stores would be running out of bandages and other medical supplies after the quake, and it would be dangerous to go out if they didn't have to. Ginny said slowly, "The ladies rooms in the building … do they contain feminine products?" Callie nodded slowly, and Ginny went on, "I'll get a key from one of the custodians, and what we'll do is go to every ladies restroom on the floor and get both kinds of products." Callie blinked, turning slightly red, but nodded and fell into step beside Ginny, whose own face felt rather warm.

As they walked, Ginny noticed the man who brought Thea back in line to get food, looking more than a little lost. He asked where Oliver was … asked because he knew Thea was his sister. This had Rebecca's fingerprints all over it, and if there was one thing Ginny knew about Rebecca, it was that her friend's late wife never did things without reason. She might not understand the reason, might not approve of the reason, but that didn't mean that the reason didn't exist. No, Slade Wilson didn't just happen to find Thea … Ginny wasn't sure how he fit into things, but he did.

She was sure of one other thing. While Thea was clearly safe with him (she'd seen them as they walked into the foyer of Merlyn Global, Thea tucked protectively under his arm), Ginny wasn't as sure about Oliver. According to Tommy, Oliver could fight … she would take his word for it, but it seemed to her that Slade Wilson was a dangerous man. That included 'dangerously attractive.' And the fact that he reminded her so fiercely of Yonatan … well, that didn't help. Yeah, Slade Wilson could spell trouble for her, even if her instincts were wrong (but she didn't think they were). So. Once things were settled here, she would go home to her mother and her daughter, to her life in New Mexico.

She wasn't the same girl who Malcolm remembered … she wasn't the same girl who fell in love with him. She'd changed, while he hadn't … couldn't because he spent the last twenty years in a coma. That wasn't an insult, it was a statement of fact. Malcolm hadn't had the last twenty years to grow and change, any more than he already did. But more than that … more than that, he didn't need her. He had Tommy and Thea, and by extension, he had Oliver and Laurel and Nicky (yes, she finally got around to learning the little guy's name). He didn't need her. Her daughter did. Maybe at the end of the week, she would leave. With that decision, she quietly let her hope (resurrected briefly over the last few hours) of something more eventually with Malcolm die. He was grieving for his wife, for the years he lost with her and their son … he had a new daughter who would need all of her family around her … he had a son who was moving ahead with the relationship he was building with Laurel Lance. It was time to let go.

They would always be friends. But that was all they could ever be. And … she was okay with that. She was more than okay with that. Ginny released a breath, moving her shoulders to release the tension that accumulated there over the last several hours, and looked at Callie, who was fumbling with the keys to the dispenser. She said softly, "I can take care of that, kiddo … find a plastic shopping bag of some kind. I know some people brought in supplies, so check the front desk for that. It's gonna be fine. It'll take time … there will be a lot of work to do, but everything will be fine. I'm counting on you to watch over them when I l … when I go home."

New Mexico was home. Starling City hadn't been home in a very long time.

She heard Callie's protesting noise and smiled gently at the girl, saying, "Yes, I'm just visiting. I live in New Mexico, and I have a twelve year old daughter who needs me home. Take care of them for me?" Callie swallowed hard, but nodded and brought over the requested bag. According to the tour Rebecca gave her when she first arrived, there were three ladies' bathrooms on each floor. They would give Dr. Wainwright the bag for this floor, and then retrieve more from other floors … and if that still wasn't enough, Ginny remembered from her time as a receptionist in her first job after Jasmine's birth that there were closets where new shipments of the items were stored, along with rolls of toilet paper and paper towels.

That in turn brought forth memories of her first days in New Mexico … and suddenly, Ginny desperately wanted to be home. She wanted it to be Saturday morning, with both her and Jasmine in their pajamas as Ginny searched the channels for the Saturday morning cartoons she grew up with while her mother drove her crazy playing with her hair. She wanted to go home. She wanted a cup of cooling coffee in her hand while her daughter listed against her, and it was all she could do not to drop the bag in Callie's hand and leave for the airport right now. But she couldn't do that. Not yet … she had no way of getting to the airport for one thing, and she couldn't leave Malcolm or his children in the lurch, for another.

And before she left, she'd need to have a word with Quentin. Someone should keep an eye on Slade Wilson, should make sure that he wasn't the trouble she feared he was.

TBC

Additional note: Yeah, don't think Quentin would be able to take Slade, even with the Mirakuru out of his system, but it's the thought that counts. As to where Slade is now in his recovery … the way I see it, he's kind of like a recovering drug addict. He still wants to hurt Oliver, but that desire is eroding day by day. He's taking baby steps back to who he used to be, even if he isn't aware of it (the recognition that Thea isn't much older than his own kid, and his realization that he doesn't want to hurt her as a result of that). Was that what Rebecca intended when she reached out to Slade? Or did she have another use for Slade, perhaps to distract Oliver if she hadn't died on that rooftop? Good question. Rebecca's mind is actually more twisted that Malcolm's was in canon … and that's damn hard to do. I suspect in the next chapter, we'll have fallout from the quake, and quite possibly a confrontation between Slade and Oliver.


	5. Chapter 5: Showdowns at Merlyn Global

Author's Notes: This entire series is weird for me to write. Normally, a specific image will pop into my head, leading me to mutter, 'oh. Oh, of course, why didn't I see it before?' I'll then feverishly write and edit until it's ready to post … not this series of stories. No, it's more like, 'hmm, how do I make these blank pages go away? Oh, that works!' Ugh, they're going to drive me to drink! Speaking of drinking, has anyone else tried sake? I had some with my dinner on Friday night (went to a new Japanese steakhouse about ten minutes from my house) and really liked it. Now Slade's wanting me to talk about that, but it'll have to wait (that and the Bavarian pretzels I made last night. Damn pain in the ass Aussie spy). Anyhow, in this chapter, Oliver tries to come to terms with the events of the last twelve hours and his new reality, only to be confronted with a piece of his past; Detective Lance makes his appearance at Merlyn Global and finds himself right smack dab between two dangerous men; while some survivors of the Undertaking want someone to blame, and they're not real particular who they take their pain out on (you knew that was going to happen, though ... sooner or later). I also wanted to acknowledge the death of Adam West at the age of eighty-eight. Like many, he was the Batman I grew up with and while I enjoyed the various incarnations to go along with the various movies, in my heart, he'll always be my Batman. Rest in peace, dear sir.

Chapter Five

Showdowns at Merlyn Global

He stood atop Merlyn Global, looking down at the city below him … at the chaos and the destruction which resulted from Rebecca Merlyn's Undertaking, at this city which he'd failed so very badly. He would have huffed a laugh, but really, it wasn't funny and he really didn't feel like laughing. After all his fine words, after all the times he'd told people, ' _you have failed this city_ ,' he was the one who failed Starling City the worst. In the hours since the four remaining Markov devices went off, Oliver Queen was able to ascertain that his mother was dead (killed by Rebecca Merlyn, no doubt) and that his younger sister was missing. Oh, yes … and that nearly all of his life was based on a lie. His parents, his aunt Becca … all of that was a lie. All he had left now was Thea and Tommy, assuming he hadn't driven them with his own omissions.

Where did he go from here? There were so many dead, so much damage, such devastation. He'd heard from Dig … they finally managed to get to Felicity. Their techie was alive, but injured and badly shaken. That was bad, but when Oliver Queen arrived on the rooftop ten minutes earlier, desperately in need of air, he'd discovered that Rebecca Merlyn's body was missing. He hadn't told Uncle Malcolm or Tommy yet … they had other things to worry about. Oliver's memories of his godfather and his father's best friend were a bit hazy, but he did remember a man who once built a dollhouse for his wife for her birthday, who sometimes distracted that same wife so Oliver and Tommy could steal a few cookies. So for him to open Merlyn Global to the survivors and the injured and to Starling City's police department didn't seem at all out of character for the man.

Despite his anguish, Oliver could also see that the older man was wracked with guilt of his own, that his wife did this in his name. He could see it every time his godfather looked at the shell-shocked survivors streaming into the lobby, the guilt and horror reflected in his eyes. That, as much as the weight of his own emotions, drove Oliver up here to the roof not long after returning to Merlyn Global … to the very same rooftop where he faced off with his Aunt Becca hours earlier, where so much of his childhood was revealed to be lies. He'd guessed during his first confrontation that the Dark Archer was a woman. But for her to be Aunt Becca … Oliver made a noise in the back of his throat and spun around, away from the horror below him. But it was then that he saw … someone who shouldn't be alive, much less be here in Oliver's city.

Someone who offered him a sardonic grin and drawled in a painfully familiar voice, "Hey, kid … you look like you've seen a ghost." Slade Wilson … menace, mentor, ally, friend, brother, enemy … Slade, who died on the island … Slade, whose eye Oliver drove an arrow into … Slade, who was standing here before him, just as Oliver remembered. But where there was previously gruff, exasperated affection, there was now hatred and fury. And behind that hatred, behind that fury … was pain, which Oliver caused, however inadvertently. He never meant to hurt Slade, never imagined his actions would lead to Shado's death, but intentions didn't count for much. He had only to look at the events of the last twelve hours to know that. He was fairly certain that the people who ignored Aunt Becca and Uncle Malcolm twenty years earlier hadn't intended for the consequences of their own actions to be quite so devastating, either.

A quiet voice inside his head, one that sounded a lot like Sara, murmured that the two situations weren't the same at all. And Oliver knew that, he did … but looking into his estranged brother's remaining eye, he realized it didn't make a difference. And really, he didn't feel he could deal with both past and present traumas at the moment, but he had to. This was the choice he made when he took on his father's mission to stop Aunt Becca, even if he hadn't known it at the time. He asked hoarsely, half-hoping the answer would be ' _yes_ ,' "You here to kill me, Slade?"

His older brother's smile grew mocking and Slade replied, "Kill you? Oh, no … no, kid. That would be way too easy. I want you to suffer first. Lady Macbeth's plan derailed my own, but I can improvise. Have you spoken to your baby sister yet?" Oliver's blood ran cold. Thea …? Slade smirked at him, adding, "Lady Macbeth decided that the best person to protect her baby girl when all hell broke loose was China White … of course, she didn't trust her as far as she could throw her, so my job was to take little Thea to her family once it was all over. She didn't much care what happened to White after that." Which meant China White was dead.

Slade was moving slowly toward him, his single eye boring into Oliver. He didn't stop until his lips were near Oliver's ear as he all but whispered, "I thought about what I would say to you when I saw you again. But in the end, Lady Macbeth had the right idea. Every night when you go to sleep, kid, think about this. From the moment the quake ended and I learned that both your mother and Lady Macbeth were dead, your precious little sister was under my protection. Think about that. Remember that. Remember how close I came to destroying what remains of your family … and know that if I got that close once, I can do it again."

Oliver was frozen in place, knowing quite well that he should do something … anything. But his muscles were locked, and Slade smirked as he drew away from his former protégé. He hadn't completed the turn back toward the rooftop entrance when another familiar voice said, "Stay right where you are … I don't have much use for Queen, but he's still under my protection as a citizen of this city." It was Lance … and regardless of his rank, he was no match for Slade.

AAAAA

Merlyn Global Cafeteria

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

"Have you eaten?"

"Do you ever stop trying to take care of the people around you?" he countered, turning to face the woman who'd spoken. Quentin Lance gave his companion the onceover, trying not to make it obvious that he was checking her over. Over, not out. She was cute enough, but not Lance's type … and she was his friend's widow, which made her family. She looked tired ... there were a few lines around her mouth that weren't there when she married his friend, years ago … and there was some gray in her hair. But despite her exhaustion, her eyes remained bright and focused and determined. She arched a brow at him, a small smile playing about her lips.

"You didn't answer the question, Quentin … have you eaten?" she countered and he rolled his eyes. Ginny Azulay folded her arms over her chest, adding, "Look … I get it. Yonatan was the same way after … messes. But right now, there's a city depending on you, and you can't be the cop they need you to be if you're not taking care of yourself. So I'm gonna ask you one last time: have … you … eaten?" Stubborn little brat. Then again, Yonatan always told him that was one of Ginny's most endearing qualities. She was stubborn as the day was long.

"I'll answer your question, if you'll answer mine … why didn't I know that you were originally from Starling?" Quentin asked. He could have kicked himself as soon as the words were out. He'd heard from Laurel about the relationship between his old friend's widow and Malcolm Merlyn. More than likely, after he was 'killed,' she wouldn't have wanted to stay in the city … would have wanted to put that entire part of her life behind her. The smile slid from Ginny's face, and she rubbed at her forehead.

"I didn't want to deal with the questions, or the well-meaning observations. I never cared about what Malcolm's status was … he was my friend, my dearest friend for much of my life, and I was in love with him from the time I was seventeen years old. I've heard the way your precinct talks about him, as if he's a lower form of life because he's rich, even as they enjoy the comfort of this building. Not just that, but I've seen the way other people expect me to do the same because I grew up poor. But I don't look at Malcolm Merlyn and see a rich man. I see my friend … the boy who was always there for me, no matter what. The man I failed by leaving this city, and leaving his widow and little boy," Ginny replied.

Lance … really didn't know what to say to that. Ginny shook her head, murmuring, "It's so easy to see how isolated Rebecca felt. The people she tried to help turned their backs on her, the people she thought were her friends were anything but … all she had was her son, and her comatose husband. I'm not condoning what she did. But the only thing that prevented me from doing what she did after I lost Yonatan was a lack of resources. It terrifies me to know what I'm capable of, Quentin." The detective shook his head.

"You wouldn't have gone through with it, Ginny. Were you angry enough? Hell, yeah … I was too. But if you really wanted to follow Rebecca Merlyn down the path she took, you wouldn't have let anything stop you … not even a lack of funds. If you really wanted to become what she did, nothing could have stopped you. You forget, I was friends with Yonatan for a long time, and he routinely told me about how determined you are. Yes, he even told me about the thing of which you don't speak," Lance answered and tried not to grin at the blush even now staining Ginny's pale face … and at the tiny squeak that emerged. And because they both desperately needed to stop talking about her late husband and about her similarities to Rebecca, he added, "And yes, I have eaten … I was just trying to figure out if I need to worry about that big, broody Australian following Queen upstairs."

"Big … wait. Was he about your height with dark hair and an eyepatch?" Ginny asked, looking worried. That was bad. Ginny worried meant trouble (however, at least now she was worrying about Queen). Lance bobbed his head and Ginny swore in Spanish, German, and a few other languages he didn't recognize, and jumped to her feet. Remembering what Yonatan once told him (' _If you see my wife running for any reason … make sure you follow_ _her_.'), Lance was on his feet a second after she was and following her to the elevator. Along the way, he heard her muttering under his breath, ' _damn pain in the ass_ ' and ' _knew he was trouble! I hate being right sometimes!'_ Oookay. Well, that wasn't worrisome or anything.

Once inside the elevator, Ginny punched the button for the top floor, running her hands over her hair and making little twitchy movements like she wanted to start pacing (good luck with that in an elevator). Figuring that she'd had long enough to explain what the hell was going on, he asked, "Okay, care to explain what set you off?" Ginny blinked at him, as if she wasn't entirely sure what he was doing there, and Lance explained, "Yonatan told me once that any time I saw you running … not jogging, not walking fast, but running … I should follow you. It was his considered opinion that either you were trying desperately to get away from something … or someone to make sure you didn't get into trouble."

Ginny scowled at that, muttering under her breath about how she usually wasn't the one in trouble. Lance let that slide, but waited patiently. Ginny finally said, "Okay, it's like this. I don't have any reason to distrust Mr. Wilson … that's the cranky Aussie you were asking me about … he saved Thea's life and protected her on the way here. But there's something about him that worries me. I mean, maybe it's stupid, but I just have a weird feeling about him." Unfortunately, Yonatan hadn't said anything to him about how good his wife's instincts were … but he'd followed her this far.

And once they got onto the roof, he saw what she meant. Wilson was positively looming over Queen (who was actually taller than he was) and while there was a part of him which enjoyed it (Sara and Laurel's father), he was still a cop … and yeah, Queen was a pain in the ass at the best of times, but he was still a citizen of the city which he served and protected. That meant Quentin Lance's couldn't just walk away, much less this morning. He swept Ginny behind him with one hand and drew his weapon with the other, saying, "Stay right where you are … I don't have much use for Queen, but he's still under my protection as a citizen of this city."

The Australian froze and then turned completely to face him. Quentin Lance inhaled sharply, because he recognized the expression on the other man's face. He ought to … he'd seen it enough in the mirror over the last several years, ever since he learned that his little girl was gone. Lance didn't know who this Wilson person was, but one thing he knew, could tell … this was a man in pain. Behind him, Queen called, "It's … it's okay, Detective Lance. This … his name is Slade Wilson. He looked after me on the island."

Lance wasn't really sure how to feel about that. Wilson inclined his head once and Quentin lowered his weapon, aware of Ginny behind him. At least, she was until he put his piece away. Then she circled around him and approached the two men. She was walking this time, much to his relief. Neither Queen nor Wilson called out for her to stop, so he forced himself to stand down …but kept his hand near his sidearm. Just in case. As Ginny drew closer to the two men, Lance followed at a small distance. Not shadowing her, as such, but he was close enough to grab her and pull her out of the line of fire if these two idiots decided they wanted to have a throwdown right here and right now.

His radio crackled, drawing the attention of everyone on the roof as Lucas Hilton warned him that things were getting ugly in the lobby. It seemed that some of the survivors who were coming in were wanting someone to blame for what was done to them, and Malcolm Merlyn was their favorite target at the moment. Ginny actually growled under her breath, all but snarling, "Oh, no. No, no, no, this is completely and totally unacceptable!" She turned on her heel, literally marching away from the two island castaways, and back toward the rooftop exit. Lance found himself exchanging Looks with both Queen and Wilson, and much to his astonishment, both men fell into step beside him, following behind the clearly furious woman. She was muttering under her breath again, and this time, he was pretty sure he didn't want to know what she was saying (he was also sure that there was a good chance he would agree with a lot of it). The elevator ride down was as silent as the grave, and Ginny continued to mutter unhappily. Several times, Queen inhaled as if to say something, and each time … he made a funny little yelp that sounded like someone (like Wilson) stepped on his foot. Lance hoped that was the case.

The trio came off the elevator and Ginny pretty much barreled through anyone who wasn't smart enough to get out of her way. Lance, Queen and Wilson followed along in her wake, wincing at the raised voices they heard from the lobby … or maybe he should say, 'voice,' considering there was only one raised voice and several softer voices. There was a quick inhale, and Ginny bellowed at the top of her not-so-inconsiderable lungs, "THAT'S ENOUGH!" The entire lobby fell silent, aside from a few whimpers from small children who'd been frightened by the whole mess. The parents or guardians of those little ones quickly made their escape as Ginny steamed over to the location of the confrontation.

It was pretty much what Lance was anticipating … three or four survivors on one side, with Merlyn, Sr. and Merlyn, Jr. on the other, along with Thea Queen, Laurel, plus the little boy she'd found in the Glades. Two of the survivors involved in the confrontation started to melt away, only to be stopped by some of Quentin's brother officers. What Lance couldn't have anticipated … or anyone else for that matter … was Wilson striding forward until he stood at Ginny's back, growling, "Oh, I'd say that's more than enough, luv!"

AAAAAAA

Merlyn Global Lobby

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing when he caught sight of the kid and followed him after eating a quick breakfast. He just knew that Oliver was going up to the roof. What happened after that, Slade hadn't quite worked out. It could have gone one of two ways … either Slade threw the kid off the building or he walked away after pointing out just how easily Slade gained access to his little sister, and let the kid's imagination take care of the rest. That was the way things ended up going … at least, to a point. It was his intent to walk away and leave those words burning in the kid's brain, but that was when the cop he brushed past when he caught sight of Oliver made his entrance, followed by the pint-sized human bulldozer who all but dragged him to the cafeteria. Slade had this sudden, terrifying vision of the tiny human bulldozer grabbing Slade and Oliver by their respective ears and dragging them downstairs (which she didn't do, but it was a near thing).

Instead, the cop's radio crackled, bringing news of what Slade was starting to realize was an inevitable confrontation between the victims of the quake and the remaining members of the Merlyn family. Once he thought about it, he realized that it was the only way things could have gone after Moira Queen's broadcast. Robert and Moira Queen were both dead, as was Rebecca Merlyn. Lady Macbeth's husband and children were all that remained. He was fairly certain that the bulldozer knew that as well. That, however, didn't stop her from yelling at the top of her lungs, "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Both the kid and Lance stared at her in shock. Slade smirked … apparently, they hadn't learned yet just how much noise a petite woman could make, particularly when she was angry.

And since neither of them seemed to be inclined to back her up, Slade would step up … literally in this case. He took a few steps forward, even as other members of Starling City's finest hemmed in some of the agitators, until he stood at the woman's back and drawled, "Oh, I'd say that's more than enough, luv!" Now most of the agitators looked a bit nervous … aside from an older man, who seemed to be the ringleader. Not that Slade was relaxing his guard … sometimes nervous (or frightened) people were far more dangerous.

Malcolm Merlyn said softly into the silence that followed, "You said that nothing I do will make up for what my wife did. And you know something, you're absolutely right." The young man … Tommy … immediately protested, until his father raised his hand. Turning his attention back to the ringleader, he went on, "I can't bring back the dead. I can't turn back the clock or make sure that the earthquake machine was never created or used. But that won't stop me from offering help to anyone who needs it. Even if I manage to help the same number of people who died last night, it still won't be enough, because I'll still have the blood of those people on my hands." Now that, Slade couldn't let stand. Nor could someone else.

"No … you won't. You aren't responsible for what happened last night. You aren't responsible for what your wife did, any more than your son or daughter is," one of the agitators said. The ringleader offered him a betrayed look, but the man went on, "Dammit, Wes, you know I'm right! And you were here when I carried my granddaughter into this place, you saw Tommy Merlyn run over to see what he could do to help! Will I ever forgive Rebecca Merlyn for robbing Corliss of her mama? Hell, no! But her husband, her children … they aren't to blame!"

"Someone has to pay! That bitch is dead, and neither her husband nor her son did a damn thing to stop her! My wife died because Moira Queen went on the air … died in the so-called evacuation! Rebecca Merlyn is dead! Moira Queen is dead! My wife is dead, and I wanna know who the hell is gonna pay for this!" the ringleader fumed. As close as he stood to the human bulldozer, Slade could all but feel her trembling with rage. He rested his hand on her shoulder, hoping she calmed down before she sprang from the ringleader with her claws extended. He felt and heard her take a deep breath before releasing it. Slade squeezed her shoulder then, silently urging her to let him take care of this. She relaxed, just a little, and Slade turned his attention to the ringleader.

"Where were you the night Malcolm Merlyn was shot? Where were you as he bled in his wife's arms and as she screamed for help?" he asked quietly. The ringleader stiffened and Slade smiled to himself. Yes, he thought as much. He nodded, murmuring, "Where were you when Rebecca Merlyn dragged her unconscious husband those precious yards into the clinic where she spent so much time? You say that someone has to pay for what happened last night … but what about that night? Who pays for that?"

The lobby was dead silent as Slade invoked something he was willing to bet no one dared to speak of. For his own part, Malcolm Merlyn was looking at the floor, while Tommy Merlyn couldn't tear his eyes away from Slade … who would willingly invoke that night, and who heard all about it from Lady Macbeth on a rare occasion when she was willing to let down her guard. Whatever else he might have said about her, she loved her husband fiercely … but that wasn't the only impetus for the Undertaking.

"I wasn't there that night. I was here in the States for training, but not here. But I worked for Rebecca Merlyn for a time, and she told me about what happened. She told me about her husband placing himself between her and someone who wanted to harm her. She told me about the bullet that tore into his body and the blood that was spilled. She told me about how she begged and screamed for help … about how that help never came … and how she had to drag her unconscious husband into the clinic, to even give him a fighting chance. And she told me about the guilt she felt … because her husband wouldn't have even been there if not for her," Slade said quietly. He kept his one eye focused solely on the ringleader … because like Lady Macbeth, like Slade himself, his rage was fueled not just by grief, but by guilt.

And Slade wasn't the only one who worked it out. Tommy Merlyn breathed, his blue eyes flashing with rage, "You _were_! You were there when my dad was shot … and you refused to help! You would have let my father die in the street, and now you have the gall to blame him for the earthquake? I could have lost my dad because of you … I did lose him! For twenty years, I thought my dad … my hero … was dead! You want to blame someone for what happened last night, aside from my mom, you can look in the damn mirror!"

The last three words were all but shouted. And Slade, who'd judged Tommy to be just like Oliver Queen when Slade first met him, was impressed in spite of himself. The young man shook his head, saying, "Yeah, my mom unleashed the Undertaking. But if even one of you had behaved like you gave a damn that night, she might have seen her way to a less extreme answer. But you know that, don't you? That's why you're being such an asshole, because you know that this is your fault … you know that you could have prevented all of this if you'd just stopped and behaved like a decent human being. It wouldn't have taken much, you know. Even helping my mom drag my dad into the clinic … or coming to her later and apologizing for being afraid. Mom could have understood that … could have forgiven that."

"Tommy," Malcolm Merlyn said softly. Just that, his son's name, and the young man fell silent, even as he continued to glower at the ringleader. The father breathed a little before saying, "What happened that night doesn't excuse what your mother did. Ginny's own husband was killed, and even though I don't know the circumstances, I suspect that he was murdered. She may have been tempted, but she never chose to hurt other people in response to her loss. I loved your mother … I still do. But her guilt and grief caused her to do the unthinkable, and some of those whom she harmed weren't even born at the time."

"I know all that, Dad … but they have no business blaming you, or me, or Thea! Hell, they shouldn't be blaming Ollie, either! At least he tried to stop it! I'm saying that if they feel so damn guilty about not acting when they could have, that's on them … not on us," the young man retorted. And that, Slade couldn't argue with. But … Tommy's words began bouncing around in his head, how the woman in front of him never chose to hurt people in reaction to her own loss. How guilt could make you do such idiotic things. Like, try to destroy an entire city with the idea that you were amputating a diseased limb (something he actually heard Lady Macbeth say a few times) … or, similarly, by swearing vengeance against a man for something he really wasn't responsible for … or vow to destroy that man's city in order to hurt him.

Now, Slade began to understand what Lady Macbeth was truly telling him all along. Did she see herself as too far gone to be saved, or maybe she didn't want to be saved at the end? Maybe she changed too much from the idealistic girl who married Malcolm Merlyn and birthed his son. But she saw something in him that made her think that even if she couldn't save herself, she could save him … and the first step to that was by curing him of the Mirakuru. He realized something else, and this was something that frightened him. He couldn't forgive Oliver. Not yet. Not because he didn't recognize that Oliver wasn't truly responsible for Shado's death … no, he couldn't forgive Oliver, because he hadn't forgiven himself yet.

If Lady Macbeth wasn't already dead, he would have killed her for that. Because unbeknownst to him, Slade Wilson now faced the exact same questions that haunted Oliver Queen … where did he go from here? How could he even begin to make things right?

TBC


	6. Chapter 6: Taking Stock

Author's Notes: We're winding down to the end of this particular story. More than likely, I'll leave it open-ended, because there have been whispers in the back of my mind about what comes next. Right now, I'm thinking that Malcolm, Tommy, and Thea join Oliver in various roles. The only question is how that comes about, and how many other changes occur as a result. In the meantime, there are still things to be dealt with. So, in this chapter, Thea tries to come to terms with everything that has changed in her life in the last twenty-four hours; Ginny acknowledges her plans for the semi-immediate future; while Malcolm has a few requests for Quentin. Oh, and don't be surprised if the characters present conflicting viewpoints. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

Chapter Six

Taking Stock

Merlyn Global

Starling City

The day after the Undertaking

Who was she? Did she know anymore?

If you'd asked her that question even two days earlier, she most likely would have looked at you as if you were insane. She was Thea Queen, youngest child of Moira Queen and the late Robert Queen, younger sister of Oliver Queen, and sister by mutual adoption to Tommy Merlyn. But … that wasn't who she was. She didn't have a drop of Queen blood in her veins, and she had no blood ties to Ollie whatsoever. By all rights, her name wasn't Thea Queen at all, but Thea Merlyn … and Thea Merlyn had no idea who she was.

The man who rescued her from China White … Slade … told her that she determined who she was, not her parents. And he was right, she knew he was right … she also knew that she had no business freaking out about her lineage, not when so many people lost so much: their lives, their families, their homes … they lost everything because of her biological mother. She looked up at her biological father, who remained seated beside her in the Merlyn Global lobby. She was finding it hard to work out what he was thinking, since he had a poker face to rival any she'd ever seen … that included both of her parents. The Queens, she meant. She was still figuring out the Merlyns.

Frustrated and exhausted, Thea dropped her head onto the desk beside her birth father's arm … and felt his hand hesitantly settle on the back of her skull a second later, as if he feared her rejection. The sad part was, she was finding it easier to accept comfort from him than just about anyone, except Slade Wilson. Malcolm Merlyn asked quietly as she looked up at him, "Would you like to go lay down for a while? You don't have to stay up here with me, you know. Trust me, I know how rough the last several hours have been for you."

She shook her head, noting the lines of exhaustion drawn into his face. How long had he been up? She knew he regained consciousness the night before, only a few hours before that atrocity was unleashed … but had he rested at all since then, had he eaten? She answered softly, "I'm fine … just giving myself a headache, trying to figure all of this out." A soft, sympathetic smile touched the corners of his mouth, and for the umpteenth time since she entered Merlyn Global with Slade Wilson, Thea studied the face of her biological father, trying to find herself in him.

She'd seen pictures of him, of course … when he was just Tommy's father, the reason why Aunt Becca looked so sad so often. Except he wasn't really dead … he was in a coma, which didn't prevent Aunt Becca from unleashing hell in retaliation. Her birth father said softly, "We'll figure something out. Nothing has to change, Thea. Robert and Moira raised you … they're your parents, your real parents, and they always will be." Thea just smiled at him sadly, because while she appreciated the sentiment … he was wrong.

"But things _have_ changed … regardless of who I call 'mother,' I'm still the daughter of a mass murderer. Aunt Becca unleashed the Undertaking, but my mom went along with her. For five years, from the time the Queen's Gambit went down, she went along with it. She didn't do anything to stop it until the very end, and I don't know how to live with that," Thea answered. Too late, she remembered that the Undertaking was unleashed in this man's name … and how did Malcolm live with that? Judging from his expression, that was an ongoing process.

"That's something we can figure out together, Thea … along with how to reconcile the different versions there were of my wife. You knew her as your aunt, probably inclined to spoil you and Ollie?" her new father asked and Thea nodded, briefly noticing that his fingers were flexing, as if to make a fist … but never completed the motion. She frowned a bit, wondering if his hand had fallen asleep. And that brought up something else … what did she call him? He was her father … but he wasn't her dad (at least not yet). She couldn't very well call him 'Malcolm.' Thea liked to be rebellious, but that was just plain disrespectful, and to someone who truly didn't deserve it (on the other hand, she'd always called her step-father Walter by _his_ given name).

"She told me stories about you sometimes … you were like a cross between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ardeth Bey, with a little bit of Captain America thrown in for good measure," Thea recalled with a half smile. Too late, she realized that her companion had no idea who Ardeth Bey was, and probably only knew Obi-Wan as the 'crazy old wizard' in the original _Star Wars_ movies. The way he blinked at her told her that she was right. She laughed, explaining, "There was a second set of _Star Wars_ movies that came out when I was a little kid, telling how Anakin became Darth Vader … Aunt Becca always said that her favorite character was Obi-Wan, since he was cute and snarky, like you. Ardeth was in the _Mummy_ movies … yeah, they made new _Mummy_ movies when I was little, too."

Malcolm offered a tiny smile in response, and closed his eyes. Thea couldn't help herself … she was feeling more and more at odds with herself. Ollie and Tommy disappeared after the confrontation that Ginny and Slade stopped, nearly an hour earlier. Slade left shortly after, saying he wanted to guide more people here, while Ginny was arguing with Detective Lance about something. There was nothing for her to do, no one to take care of. No one except the man in front of her. She put her hand over his wrist, asking, "Are you all right? I mean … I know that's a loaded question, but you don't look like you're feeling well."

He opened his eyes, smiling at her tiredly, and answered, "Just tired. I shouldn't be … I was asleep for the better part of twenty years." He paused, before asking softly, "Can I tell you something?" Thea bobbed her head, sensing that this was her opportunity to take care of someone else, when people had always taken care of her. He said softly, "I know that twenty years have passed … I know that my son is a grown man, and that I have a teenage daughter. I know that my closest friend from childhood is no longer the young girl I remember. And worst of all, I know that my Rebecca-the sweet, idealistic, kind woman I married-turned our city into this. Everything has changed, but me … I know I'm older, but I feel as if I'm still in my twenties. And I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that."

Thea didn't know, either … but she also didn't think that how he was feeling was all that strange. Malcolm sighed and offered her another tired smile and stood up, saying, "C'mon … I think that man over there is trying to get your attention." Thea looked in the direction her father was looking, and saw … Walter? She rose to her feet, mouthing her step-father's name, and Malcolm said softly, "Go ahead … he needs to make sure that you're okay." She turned back to smile and thank him … but it was then that his eyes rolled up in his head and his knees buckled. Thea screamed and reached out to catch him, only for them both end up on the floor.

Walter was beside them a moment later, his hand reassuring on Thea's shoulder as she held her newfound father in her lap, calling over her head, "We need help over here!" There was a clatter of feet, and then Ginny Azulay was in front of them, muttering under her breath about stupid men who pushed themselves too much. Walter and Detective Lance pulled Malcolm upright, while Ginny helped Thea to her feet, keeping a protective arm around her shoulders. Thea knew shouldn't, but she leaned into the other woman's embrace. She wanted her brother (either of them, really), but Ollie and Tommy weren't here … and Ginny was.

ARROW

"You're leaving … aren't you."

It was a statement, not a question, and Ginny turned away from the view from the Merlyn Global penthouse to face her childhood friend. Malcolm was watching her, his face neutral. She knew him better than that, though. They hadn't had much time to talk since he woke up … but in the four hours since he'd collapsed downstairs, they'd made up for some of that.

Once Walter Steele and Quentin Lance got him settled in what _was_ his hospital room for so many years, Ginny took a seat beside him and just started talking. He was awake again by that point, and she knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep, even after Thea assured him that she was fine (because of _course_ Malcolm was worried that he'd frightened his daughter). And so, Ginny talked. She told him about her mother and her daughter, and about the life she'd built in New Mexico in the years since she left New York. She wasn't quite ready to tell him about Yonatan's death, at least not yet, and not until she had a steady stream of whiskey or Scotch at hand. Talking about her husband's death always had that effect on her. Malcolm didn't call her on it … he knew she wasn't ready to have that conversation. He knew her every expression … just as she knew all of his. And right now, he was far more upset by her eventual departure than he was letting on. Ginny turned her back on the devastation outside to face him.

"Not right away … but the time is coming, yes. I don't belong here anymore, Malcolm," she answered quietly, "I haven't for a while. And my daughter needs me, just as Tommy and Thea need you." She was still coming to terms with that particular fact … that Thea was Malcolm's daughter. And then when you factor in how Rebecca arranged it … well, she tried not to think about that part. Malcolm expelled a breath and nodded as Ginny sat on the edge of his bed. He took her hand, interlacing their fingers together … something he'd done when they were kids to comfort her (or himself).

"I know she does. It's been good, having you here. I know, you didn't leave until after I … until after. But so much is unfamiliar, it's been good having someone familiar nearby," he answered. Ginny smiled faintly, because she could understand that. Yes, he had his son … however, Tommy wasn't the little boy Malcolm tucked into bed twenty years earlier. Instead, he was a young man approaching thirty. Same with Oliver Queen. Thank God, she and Malcolm talked him into staying. The boy felt horrifically guilty for 'allowing' the quakes. Maybe one of these days, they would get it through his thick skull that he did all he could. There were five of those monstrosities, and a limited number of people. She could probably ask him about the rest of his team the next time she saw him.

"I'll stay a while … but yes, I do need to leave. Mom's great about taking care of Jazz, but she's not as young as she used to be and a girl needs her mom. Especially at Jasmine's age," Ginny answered and Malcolm inclined his head. Ginny paused briefly, wondering if she should bring up what else was troubling her, before asking, "Do you have any idea what happened to Rebecca?" It continued to un-nerve her … how Rebecca went from a compassionate woman who wanted to heal to a vengeful psychopath. And she wasn't even sure if that was the correct term, but Rebecca wasn't sane … not for a long time. And once more, she wondered how close she came to following Rebecca's path. She shivered a little, hoping Malcolm didn't notice.

It probably was in vain, but if he noticed, he didn't make a comment. Instead, he said softly, "According to Tommy, Rebecca left for a time after I was shot. I don't know who took care of me while she was gone, but Tommy was in the care of the Queens. Something I find strange, given her opinion of Robert and Moira. She's very evasive about where she went and what she was doing, but I believe that was where she learned to fight. She may have learned … other things." Learned other things. Yeah. And leave it at that.

Ginny stared at her childhood friend, who appeared pensive … and maybe a little distressed as well. What separated her from Rebecca, aside from resources? She might never know the answer. Instead, she turned her attention to someone else who was struggling in the wake of … everything, asking, "Do you think Thea will be okay? It seems like every time she might be able to grab a handhold, another wave knocks her off her feet." Malcolm looked troubled by the question, and no wonder. After she reassured herself that Malcolm was in good hands and that her step-father was okay, the girl vanished to the rooftop.

"Eventually … she's a strong girl, but like you said, the waves keep coming. The people who seem to provide her the most comfort are Oliver and Tommy, not surprisingly. A little more surprising is the effect Slade Wilson has on her. I think she draws strength from him. She isn't sure of me, which is only fair. She only just found out that I'm her biological father, when she's still mourning the death of the only father she ever knew, and almost her entire life has been based on a lie. I'm still not clear on how Rebecca managed it, but by now, I should be used to my wife's resourcefulness," Malcolm admitted. Without meaning to, two sets of eyes strayed to the window and the devastation left by Rebecca's 'resourcefulness.' As one, they shuddered and returned their attention to each other. Ginny wasn't entirely sure Malcolm was correct about the way Thea saw him, but that wasn't her business. And because that was how he took care of others, Malcolm asked next, "Is there anything I can do before you go? Anything you need?"

Ginny offered a smile, answering, "I'm fine, Malcolm. We're all fine. But there _is_ something I've been missing." Malcolm's face went blank for a moment … but then, a heartbeat after that, she found herself enfolded in his arms, her head resting under his chin. Ginny exhaled slowly, clinging to her friend, and whispered the words that she'd been wanting to say for weeks, ever since Rebecca led her into the room where Malcolm lay comatose, "I've missed you, old friend … so, so very much!" Malcolm didn't say anything … just held her all the more tightly.

"If you ever need me, I will be there … though hell should bar the way," he answered softly. He already knew that she would come if he called … she'd already done it once before. But it wasn't time for her to leave yet (even if she could leave town, which wasn't really possible right now), and until that day came, here was where she would stay.

ARROW

Because that was the way life worked, only a few moments after Malcolm's promise was made to Ginny, she was called away by one of the staff members (and he really needed to start learning names). She offered him an apologetic smile, but he waved it off, because she _was_ needed. And he needed to have a few other conversations as well. Thea would come back when she was ready. Same with Oliver, and Tommy would know when that time came. The sound of a throat being cleared drew his attention to the door, where he discovered Detective Lance standing there, looking more than a little uncomfortable. He beckoned the other man into his former hospital room, and asked quietly, "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"Came to see how you were doing … and if there was anything you needed," Lance responded. Malcolm studied the other man. According to Tommy, the detective investigated the shooting, but given how shaken Rebecca was, it went nowhere. Of course, given what he knew now, he had to wonder if Rebecca took care of the shooter herself once she returned from wherever she went (Nanda Parbat … didn't sound familiar, but it was a big world out there). And as it happened, there was something he needed from the father of his son's girlfriend.

"I'm recovering. Ginny was here for a while, making sure I didn't overdo it … again, as she so eloquently puts it," Malcolm answered. Lance smirked when Malcolm indulged in an eyeroll. After a moment, he said more seriously, "And yes, there are a few things I need. First, if you see Slade Wilson the next time he returns with people in need of shelter, let him know that I would like to speak with him. Secondly … Tommy seemed spooked when he went to the roof earlier. My … Rebecca's body isn't up there, is it?"

The detective stared at him for several long moments, before observing, "I have no idea how you know that … but you're right. I sent a few men up there to retrieve Mrs. Merlyn's body not long after Wilson, Queen, and I came down with Ginny. It wasn't there. I hope I don't need to tell you why this is going to remain under wraps?" Malcolm shook his head, because he understood it entirely too well. If people realized that Rebecca's body was gone … well, things could get uglier than they already were. Lance went on, "As for Wilson … sure, I can do that. This have something to do with Ginny leaving once things settle down?"

Ah. He wasn't expecting that. That didn't stop Malcolm from answering, "I hadn't realized I was being so obvious. She needs to go home to her mother and her little girl … and I need to make sure she's safe. Even before I was shot, I was a target, just for being who and what I was. With recent events, that will be even more true … not just for me, but for anyone who matters to me. My children … Oliver … even Ginny. Even if he can't protect her himself, Mr. Wilson may be able to shed some light on someone who can."

Lance was nodding slowly, and Malcolm couldn't help asking, "And feel free to not answer … but what is your tie to Ginny? I don't remember the two of you being particularly close when the three of us were kids." Lance's smirk returned and Malcolm couldn't help wonder what sort of opening he left for Lance. But he was telling the truth, as he understood it. No, he didn't know everything about Ginny and her friendships with others when they were kids … but he did remember that Ginny didn't have that many friends aside from him.

"We weren't … really, I didn't even know that Ginny was from Starling until the last few days. I knew her late husband, Yonatan … he was a fellow cop and we were friends. After he died, and she left New York, I kept an eye on her as often as I could. Not easy, considering she lives in New Mexico, but whenever I was in the area for a conference, I'd look in on her," Lance answered. Malcolm inclined his head … that made sense. The detective added, "So what made you think of Wilson to look out for Ginny? Not saying you're wrong, just couldn't imagine why you would think of him, aside from the fact that they'll both be leaving soon."

Yes, and that was something Malcolm was trying to forget. Weak, he knew, but he wasn't ready for her to go. He was painfully aware of the way she looked at him … how young he seemed to her. And despite what she believed, Malcolm also knew (and had for some time) that she was in love with him (at least, was at the time he was shot, and may still be). It was Rebecca who pointed that out to him, observing how much she admired Ginny for her grace in accepting Rebecca, when she was so obviously in love with Malcolm. Tommy had just been born, and Malcolm saw only wistfulness in his friend's smile as she cuddled the newborn close. Ginny left town for a year or so after that, giving Malcolm time to come to terms with his wife's revelation.

He needed to think about how to react. Should he be upset that he had no clue how his friend felt about him? How was he supposed to feel? In the end, he never admitted to Ginny that he realized her feelings for him went far behind friendship. He was actually more than a little embarrassed that he never picked up on that. Lance was still waiting for his answer, and so he replied, "Wilson is a dangerous man, but he's not … he protected my daughter after the quakes, and he's been leading people to safety. He's a dangerous man … I think the best person to protect my friend as she returns to her family is someone just as dangerous as anyone who might want to harm her. And he seems to at least respect her."

Lance hummed under his breath, but didn't argue, and finally said, "Sure, I'll send Wilson up here the next time he gets back. And for what it's worth, I agree … on all points." Malcolm merely smiled at that, and Lance departed, leaving him alone to think about what came next. There was another reason Ginny was leaving … oh, she was telling the truth about needing to get back to her daughter, and about no longer belonging in Starling City. But Malcolm knew her well enough to read between the lines, and he knew that she was leaving because of him. He needed to 'grow up' and come to terms with the changes in his life during the last twenty years, needed to mourn the loss of his wife and his dreams. And he couldn't do any of that if he was leaning on Ginny, especially with the disappearance of Rebecca's body.

They would move on with their lives separately, at least for now. Who knew what the future held? Malcolm wasn't about to say that he did. He hadn't foreseen being shot when he went to the clinic to apologize to his wife, much less spend the next twenty years in a coma. And he certainly hadn't foreseen Rebecca's response to that event. You couldn't see around corners. Life just didn't work that way, and you adjusted to it, in whatever way you could.

TBC


End file.
